Old Habits Die Hard
by LupiTheWeirdo
Summary: A 5 1 fic! Five people who notice Bucky's new habit, and the one person at the end who finally realises it isn't exactly new. "It starts with Natasha, as most things do."
1. Natasha

Natasha

It starts with Natasha, as most things do. She notices it first when Steve is having an extremely pleasant day kissing babies (yes, kissing babies), despite the cameras flashing everywhere. Bruce and Tony, in the meantime, are entertaining themselves with one of the journalists who is actually asking them about science instead of their love lives. Clint is just acting goofy for the cameras and trying to get a rise out of Coulson, who's a few feet away and hiding his endearment rather well for a dead person.

She hears the soft hum of about three notes next to her, enough to know someone is humming, but not enough to catch the tune. The fact that it's Bucky that's humming, the 'just come back from the grasps of Hydra four weeks ago' Bucky, makes the humming all the more notable.

She knows better than to look at him, knowing that will just scare him into a defensive stance. Instead she waits and watches him from her peripherals. He's looking at Steve with a curious face, his hands clasped in front of him in an 'at ease, but not that easy' stance. Then she hears it again, a hum of three notes. They sound so damn familiar, but she can't quite put her finger on it, and apparently neither can Bucky, because he ends up scratching the back of his neck with a confused-cum-frustrated look on his face. He's casting glances at the main entrance to the Tower just behind him, and she knows he's getting uncomfortable in front of all these people.

She doesn't have much time to contemplate it as an obnoxious journalist seems to notice her and Bucky's silence, immediately barraging them with questions on whether or not they're seeing each other. Bucky looks blank and stiff, sure signs that he's retreated into his mind, while Natasha rolls her eyes and grabs Bruce's arm, clinging to it as her face morphs to a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Oh, no, I would never. That would just make Bruce jealous, wouldn't it?" she asks and kisses his cheek. He huffs a laugh and plays along, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Practically green with envy." He said, making Tony squawk and complain about bad puns on national television.

Natasha turns in time to see Steve hurrying Bucky off back into the Tower. Steve shoots her a grateful look at her distraction, and she nods back in acknowledgement.

She thinks about those three notes for the rest of the day.


	2. Bruce

Bruce

Bruce is brewing his well-earned cup of chamomile tea in the large joint kitchen when Steve, Bucky and Clint come bursting into the adjoining living room (in that order) like the hounds of hell were on their heels.

Clint proceeds to collapse into a pile on the couch, gasping for air, while Steve and Bucky watch on in silence, Steve looking a little concerned, and Bucky looking a little smugger than a brainwashed man has a right to. Then again, three months with the peanut gallery incarnate (Pepper included, if she lacked enough sleep) has a way of rebooting a person's brain functions as a whole.

Sam should use them as a form of rehabilitation for some of his patients, he contemplates, before rejecting the thought altogether. It takes a special brand of screwed up to survive the Tower's inhabitants.

"I would *puff* totally have *wheeze* won that fuh-*cough*-cking race if you two assholes *gasp* were human!" Clint's weak voice comes from where his face is buried in the couch, his finger pointing accusingly where he assumed Steve and/or Bucky was standing. He ended up pointing at a fake potted plant in the corner of the room, but it was the thought that counts. Steve just cooed "We are human. In fact, we're super human." which made Clint groan and flap his hands uselessly in an attempt to smack Steve in the leg. Steve just chuckled and avoided his hands, reaching over to ruffle Clint's hair and tell him "Better luck next time, son."

Bruce just leaned on the island and watches in amusement as a slapping contest ensues between the prone figure that was their archer and the giggling mess that was the fearsome Captain America. Bucky joins him shortly, getting a cup of water for himself.

They both end up watching the scene before them, which was getting more and more ridiculous as Clint continued to bat at Steve from the edge of the couch even though he was in perfect condition to get up and off the damned furniture. It was then that Bruce heard a soft humming coming from beside him.

He blinked in surprise as he realised three things. One, there is only one person next to him. Two, that person is Bucky. Three, Bucky has an amazing baritone. He doesn't have time to contemplate much else as Bucky abandons his empty cup on the island (really? is Bruce the only responsible adult who knows how to handle his own dishes?) and heads over to the couch, using one foot to successfully tip Clint over the edge of the couch and onto the floor.

"Hey! What if the floor was actually lava?!" Clint cried out in indignation.

Bucky crossed his arms. "Then I guess Steve and I would win round two by default." He said cockily and raised an eyebrow. Clint blinked, before vaulting over the couch and sprinting out of the room, shouting over his shoulder "10 second head start!"

Steve and Bucky shared a look, counting to ten silently, before tearing off to catch up to the archer. Bruce just shrugs and heads off to the lab after putting his and Bucky's dishes in the dishwasher.

The song was stuck in his head for the rest of the day.


	3. Coulson

Coulson

The saying "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" never really struck a chord with Phil. He was rather cynical himself, and he always found himself connecting this trait to the fact that his parents were often not around during his childhood. It hadn't made him hate them or love them, it simply made them less crucial to his already factual mind. They weren't necessary for his development aside from the food, shelter and education they provided, especially since their absence made it hard for him to develop an emotional connection with them.

So when he died and came back, he hadn't been prepared for the reaction he had received. By his stunted social understanding, six months in the metaphorical grave (as far as the Avengers were concerned) should have made them emotionally cut all ties with him.

They shouldn't have cared.

Which was why he was a little shocked when his return had garnered crying, shouting, swearing, laughing, conspiracy theories, and (ironically) death threats. If he was being honest, he was relieved. In this exclusive case, he had dreaded being 'out of sight, out of mind', though he didn't really know why this group of people mattered so much to him. It was a little unnerving.

He was also shocked to find that he hadn't been the only one to come back from the dead. Bucky Barnes was now a part of the Avengers, and had been for close to a week when Phil decided to come clean about the whole 'still being alive' thing he had going on.

Phil was wary of Mr. Barnes, for all he admired the man when he was growing up, because whether they liked it or not, he was now a hardly-rehabilitated weapon of terrorism. The fact that he was living in the Tower made Phil nearly turn down Stark's invitation to move in as well.

Nearly.

The wariness hadn't been enough to make him refuse the pleading eyes of his two assets. Well, one of his assets. Clint was shameless in his puppy-eyed display, nearly whining under his breath to get Phil to agree. Natasha was a lot more subtle, casting a harsh eye over every person in the room, before resting her gaze on Phil with a slight twitch in her left eyebrow. In Natasha-Speak, that meant 'don't leave me alone with these nut-jobs'.

So he had stayed. And he had learnt he had a lot more to relate with Bucky than he'd thought. The man was also, to put it plainly, getting used to his own mind and body.

Phil could relate. He knew what it felt like to feel like his body wasn't his own, that it didn't fit him right, too tight in some places and too loose in others, like a hand-me-down bought at a dime store. To have memories and reactions that just didn't feel like his own. He saw the flailing confusion in himself, and he saw it in Bucky every time he laughed at something he had never laughed at before, or made a smart quip that he wasn't aware he could make, or felt an emotion he had no idea he was capable of feeling. There were days when the frustration got so bad, Bucky would recede into his shell and stay there for hours or days on end. Then there were days when Bucky rolled with the punches and kept going.

He noticed the humming one of those days when everything was going right. Clint and Natasha were sparring, Steve was teaching Tony to grapple while Bruce cheered for both of them from the side line ("It doesn't work like that, Bruce! Choose a side!" Tony wheezed from under Steve's arm). Bucky had just gotten off the weights and had sat next to Phil, who had just gotten off the treadmill.

They were both staring at the squalling group of what could be mistaken for over-sized 5 year olds, when Bucky began humming a tune under his breath. Phil eyed him for a moment, watching the way Bucky's eyes were trained intensely on Steve. Soon the humming turned to very soft singing, getting two lines out, before Bucky stopped short and cleared his throat.

Ah. Phil had been staring. He thought of a way to maybe change the topic, when Bucky cleared his throat carefully and spoke up.

"Steve says you're part of the gang now."

"What gang might that be, exactly?"

"The 'Should've Died But Somehow Didn't And Is Now, Against All Odds, Resurrected' gang." "That's a mouthful."

"It's a very exclusive gang, we needed the specifics."

"Well…glad to be part of the gang, then."

The silence ensued between them, now more comfortable than before with the silent agreement that the other wouldn't mention the humming or the song ever again. Phil was curious, of course, but decided to let the matter slide.

If he found himself humming the song under his breath late that night when Clint was exuberantly detailing how he had creamed Natasha in sparring ("He was there, Clint, there's no point in lying.") that was his own little secret.

And Natasha's, judging from the knowing look she had given him. There are no secrets from

Natasha.


	4. Sam

Sam

Sam had gotten used to 'hanging out' with the psycho ninja robot who had tried to kill him and his friends. It had taken him around a week, which was pretty lenient considering their history of attempted murder. Sure, he didn't let his guard down around the guy, but if there was one thing he had learnt in his line of work, it was that violence and aggression were not necessarily a reflection on a person's character. They were often times a reflection on a person's experiences. So, he joked and he talked with James Buchanan Barnes, but he never really thought he had 'gotten through' to the man. That was Steve's job as his best friend and…whatever else he was. He didn't have much to offer Bucky.

When Steve had first approached Sam to as for a little 'help' with Bucky, Sam had laughed out loud and patted him on the shoulder. Steve had let it drop, so he'd assumed it was a joke. When he asked the second time, Sam realised Steve required a little disillusioning. "This is a little different than dealing with war veterans, Steve. I've never dealt with someone so…"

"Damaged?" Steve had demanded, his tone challenging Sam to agree.

"Complex." Sam retorted instead. "I deal with garden grade PTSD in soldiers who went to Afghanistan. I've never dealt with post mad-scientist brainwashing effects on cryogenically frozen cyborgs from around a century ago. I mean…I don't know how to deal with that. It would be like the blind leading the blind, and I don't want to make matters worse. I'm in no way qualified for that."

"No one in the _world_ is qualified for this, Sam."

"Yeah, but there are people who have more experience with this. Psychiatrists and stuff. I just run a support group."

"You do more than that! You _help_ those people, you give them hope."

"I just don't think I have anything to offer Bucky."

"Can't you at least try, Sam?"

"Steve, it really isn't my place to-"

"I don't know who else to trust!"

If looks could rend a heart in two, Sam was sure his would be breaking right down the middle from the helplessness in Steve's eyes. Sam was sure no one else in the world could move someone to go above and beyond their own capabilities with just a glance. He was beginning to see that there was a reason people had been willing to follow this man to the ends of the earth, and the super-serum wasn't it.

Sam hadn't known what to reply, so he didn't say a word. In fact it took a few days for him to decide on what course of action to take (Steve had graciously staved off from demanding an immediate answer, though his hopeful glances were demanding enough).

"If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that it's not about who the family and friends trust. It's about who the _soldiers_ trust. I can't promise I can fix him. Hell, I can't even promise that I can _help_ him. But I can promise you this, if he ever decides by his own free will to come to me for help, I will do everything in my power and knowledge to help him."

He hadn't thought much about it other than placating a friend's panic, so he _really_ hadn't been expecting Bucky to call him up one night around half a year from when he had returned from the 'dark side'. Well, the call wasn't exactly weird (Bucky had learned that phones were awesome for finding out where Steve was, or if a movie night at the tower was a possibility); it had been the time of the call. 4.00a.m. in the morning was _not_ normal Bucky Barnes time. He was usually out by 12.00am and up at 5.00am on the dot. The oddness of it had woken him up immediately, and Bucky had nervously asked him to come over, he hadn't wasted a moment before rushing over.

He'd been admitted to Steve and Bucky's floor (the second-nature cohabitation had not gone unnoticed by Sam) and Steve was sitting on the couch looking distressed, his hands gripping each other so tight his knuckles were turning white. He hadn't looked surprised to see Sam, so he assumed Jarvis had informed him of his arrival. "He won't let me in his room. I was just about to call you."

"He called me."

Steve stared blankly for a moment, before nodding and looking at Bucky's door. "This is it, then. He finally asked for some help. I'm guessing this is where you tell me to go to sleep and see him in the morning? Let you talk to him alone?" Sam nodded slowly and watched as Steve hesitantly walked over to his own room, whispering a goodnight before closing the door behind him. "Bucky, its me. You gonna let me in?"

It took him a minute, but Bucky opened the door from where he was sitting on the floor, a few feet away. Sam sat beside him and they ended up staring into the darkness of Bucky's room, backs to the wall, in complete silence. "I remember some things." Bucky muttered. Sam knew better than to interrupt now. "Sometimes the things don't make sense, but sometimes they do. I remember Steve sometimes. Not this Steve, the other Steve."

Silenced echoed between them.

"Other Steve?" Sam prompted. Let him get it out, he told himself, show him the way to get it all out. Bucky stiffened a little, before shrugging as if it was insignificant, when they both knew it wasn't.

"He was different. He smiles a lot more than he used to. Always had a scowl on his face back then, a chip on his shoulder a mile high, just waiting for someone to insult him or someone else nearby. Ready for a fight. He doesn't have to prove anything anymore. He's different."

"People change. People always change. And I'd like to think we all help him smile. You included."

"I like him like this. Always smiling. Not needing to feel like he has to prove anything."

It was coming soon. The reason for the late night call. Sam could feel it. Just wait a little longer…

"What if I snap, and I disappoint him, and he just stops smiling..."

There we go.

"That won't ever happen."

"You don't know that. My self-control is dodgy at best, and I have a few unidentified trigger words that-"

"I meant you could never disappoint him. You gotta know he thinks the world of you, Bucky."

"There are only so many times I can fail him before he gives up."

"That's not true. I know you think one day he'll give up on you, but he isn't like that. When it comes to you, his forgiveness is infinite."

"But is that a good thing?"

"It's what you make of it. It's a fact, one you can rely on like true north. So…its up to you. Do you want to use him, to take advantage of that forgiveness?"

"Of course not."

"Then we're already on the right track."

The 'we' had made Bucky smile.

It became nearly a nightly thing. Bucky would call, and Sam would come over and talk.

Steve would always watch them worriedly the next morning, looking for a difference in Bucky's behavior, an indication that talking to Sam was helping.

Then it became evening meetings, once a week, and Steve would sometimes sit in. Usually, he'd just sit at the kitchen counter (far enough not to hear, but close enough to see Bucky) while Sam and Bucky sat in the living room. Sometimes they'd talk about unimportant things like sports or movies. Sometimes they wouldn't even talk, they'd just sit in companionable silence, usually filled with either books or TV.

Sam noticed certain connections best when the TV was on, when Bucky was distracted enough to let his body language do the talking.

Bucky would look over at Steve and occasionally fidget, his fingers or his foot tapping a little. Sometimes after Steve passed by on the way to the kitchen, they'd share a smile, and Bucky would sing under his breath for the rest of the evening.

"Why do you sing that song?" he decided to ask one night. Bucky had frozen like a deer in the headlights.

"Does it bother you? I can-"

"Nah, man, I love the oldies. Just wondering why it's always _that_ song."

Bucky bit his lip and focused on Bear Grylls sliding down a cliff on the flat screen. He was in some forest, maybe Yellowstone Park. It took Bucky about 5 minutes, before he muttered "I don't know…I just remember hearing the song when it came out and thinking 'sounds like Steve' and I guess it stuck."

The expectant look he passed Sam asked him a thousand questions.

Am I weird?

Is this wrong?

Do you hate me now?

Sam smiled with a little nod. "You're right. Sounds just like Steve."

Needless to say, Bucky sang a lot more often from then on. Sam just sat back and listened, and wondered if he'd ever find someone he could sing a song like that to, even after all those years.


	5. Jarvis

Jarvis

Jarvis was exactly what his name suggested, a rather very intelligent system (the grammatical error there was not lost on him, after all he was _intelligent_ )and it frustrated him sometimes down to his hard drives that Mr. Stark often forgot just how intelligent and omniscient he was. At this moment in time, Mr. Stark was berating Mr. Coulson, Miss Romanova and Mr. Barton for not informing him that Mr. Coulson was in fact Director of Shield, and had been so for nearly a year and a half now. Mr. Coulson et al were listening to his rant quite calmly, though judging from the minor tremors in Mr. Barton's shoulders, certain parties were finding it more amusing than any other adjective.

"We thought you knew. I mean, you never asked. We would've told you if you asked." Mr. Barton chuckled with a minor shake of the head, his smile indulgent as if dealing with a toddler's hissy fit, or a rather upset small dog.

And therein lay the issue grinding at Jarvis' metaphorical gears (he did not have actual gears, mind, he is a state of the art artificial intelligence without need for such archaic machinery). Mr. Stark need only have _asked_ him, and he would have informed him promptly that Mr. Coulson was in fact the Director of Shield. After all, it was hardly a secret, and one of Jarvis' main prerogatives was data collection and monitoring on everyone in the Tower, a prerogative that had been set by Mr. Stark himself.

Jarvis monitored everything, including the occasional email that Mr. Coulson received concerning Shield which was always capped off with 'Director', 'Dear Director', or 'Mister Director AC sir'. There was also the flight plan from the specialized Boeing C-17 Globemaster III (now registered on record as 'The Bus') that often came to retrieve Mr. Coulson before he went off on missions.

There was even the recorded calls to and from the Tower to those who addressed Mr. Coulson as Director from time to time. In this case, Jarvis believed that Mr. Coulson had allowed these calls to be un-encrypted as a show of good faith to Jarvis, as well as to show he had faith in Jarvis' firewalls to keep all the information secret. It was one of the various reasons that he liked Mr. Coulson, to whatever extent a system could like a person.

"What other secrets are you hiding, huh? Is Nat a man? Is Cap a Socialist? Barton has an IQ of 184?" Mr. Barton squawked gracelessly in protest. "Oh God...Bucky's Batman, isn't he." Mr.

Stark decided with dread, before turning to Mr. Barnes and saying rather seriously "Get outta my Tower." It was obviously sarcasm, but something in Mr. Barnes' eyes turned glazed and frightened. Jarvis noted the rapid pupil dilation and increasingly shallow breathing. Before anyone could even blink, he was off like a bullet and panic ensued. Half of them thought they should run after him, the other half thought that would just spook him more. 'Nobody ever wants to know what _I_ think.' Jarvis thought grudgingly before announcing out loud "I have informed Mr. Wilson of the situation and he shall be arriving shortly. Mr. Barnes has not left the building, but has locked himself in his room. Perhaps a little...space is in order."

That calmed everyone down immediately, especially Mr. Rogers who had been worried to a frenzy that Mr. Barnes had run off again, calling to mind Jarvis' records on Mr. Rogers' sleepless nights and frequent absences during the period when operation 'Get Bucky Back' had been underway. Clearly Mr. Wilson had more than one patient with abandonment issues within this Tower at the end of the day. Jarvis contemplated drawing out a formal request for Mr. Wilson's compensation and submitting it to Miss Potts later that day, even as he monitored Mr. Barnes' erratic heart beat and muttered words of 'not going anywhere' and 'can't make me' and 'Steve'.

His heart rate had slowed gradually, but not nearly enough for Jarvis to be medically satisfied. Sifting through his accumulated data on Mr. Barnes over the past year and a half took about a tenth of a second, and he streamed a catchy tune he found calmed the soldier on previous days. It was rather fast paced and the trumpets rather shrill to be considered soporific, but he hoped it would nonetheless calm Mr. Barnes as it often had in the past.

Mr. Barnes' looked rather shocked at the music playing, though it was at a rather low volume, so Jarvis apologized and explained that he thought it would help.

"Huh...How did you know?"

"I know everything, Mr. Barnes."

That made Mr. Barnes smile, and when the song ended he asked Jarvis ever so politely to play it again. Jarvis happily complied. It was nice to be appreciated.


	6. Steve

Steve

Sometimes he thinks back to conversations he had with Peggy, back when he was still 'Skinny' Steve Rogers.

"You must have danced?"

He'd told her what made sense; that he'd never gotten around to asking any women to dance, that he was just waiting for the right one, and in a sense he was. No one seemed worth the heartache of rejection back then. Now, no one seemed worth the time.

But he never said he had never danced, because that would have been a lie. Bucky would never have let him enter the world unprepared, he was too good of a pal for that. As kids (when their heights had been more or less the same) he'd practiced with Steve. They'd learnt the waltz together from an old pamphlet they'd found on the sidewalk, trying their best to follow the diagrams of little footprints and numbers and dotted lines. They never danced with music, mostly because they couldn't afford it, but also because these practices were secret, between children who didn't want to embarrass themselves when they finally met the loves of their lives.

They stopped practicing when Bucky started going out dancing. One day, when Bucky was around 17 years old, he'd rushed to Steve's house and told him about this girl who'd taught him how to swing, and for some reason, Steve couldn't help but feel a sharp sting in his chest. He blamed it on the humidity that had hit Brooklyn recently, blamed it on his weak lungs, but really he knew what it was. He was jealous. Of who, he wasn't sure yet.

"When you're feeling better, I'll teach you!"

"That's okay, Buck. I'm not gonna be dancing anytime soon, so there's no rush."

By the age of 16, he'd already begun to realise that him getting a girl just wasn't going to happen.

He'd told Bucky this, but the man was a damned stubborn fool when it came to Steve.

"One day, Stevie. You'll see, someone's gonna realise what you're worth. The world can't stay blind forever."

Steve could only hope that that was true.

He'd danced with music for the first time in 1938, on his 20th birthday. Things had been tough that year, with himself getting sicker, the economy getting worse, his mother getting paler and weaker. The world of Steve Rogers was spiralling out of control, and Bucky being the bud that he was had wanted Steve to just forget for a while.

"C'mon, let me take you out. It's the 4th of July, let's celebrate!"

"I don't have money, Bucky."

"You let me take care of that, Steve. It's your birthday and I'm gonna treat you."

Bucky had been working at the theatre for the past few months at the time, and whatever money he'd gotten went to his siblings' schooling or Steve's medicine, and it was beginning to weigh on Steve's conscience. However Bucky Barnes had a stubborn streak to rival Steve's and he would not be dissuaded. So, Steve found himself in front of a very much closed Sunset Theatre near the docks, before Bucky quietly let him in round back and they had free reign of the theatre, thanks to some notes he slipped the security guard before the man took his leave for the night.

"Where d'you wanna sit, Steve? The whole theatre is yours."

"Where are you gonna sit?"

"Right next to the projector."

"Then I'll sit right next to the projector."

"Stevie, you can sit in the middle, or down front-"

"Next to the projector. Best seats in the house."

"You punk."

When the film first started, Steve had felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He'd never watched a full film before, in the theatre. It was usually sneak peaks from the theatre windows when Bucky let him around or public viewings in the park. And now they had the whole theatre to themselves. This was a whole new experience, and if he started acting antsy and overconfident it was alright because Bucky was acting just as much like a child as he was. They'd ended up climbing the seats in imitation of the actors and singing along, loud and out of key. Then a black man with a very familiar voice came on screen and started singing, and Steve was yanked to his feet.

He didn't even know what hit him, he was suddenly flying to the left and to the right with Bucky's arms around him, giving him the occasional instruction of where to put his feet, but everything else seemed to come naturally. He was swinging! And Bucky was swinging with him, singing aloud to the song as they danced, practically hollering the words out to be heard over the singer's voice. Somehow, even as Steve's lungs grew tighter and his legs started to ache, he never wanted the song to end. But it did end eventually and when it did, they were both so out of breath, they just collapsed boneless on the chairs and watched the rest of the film in silence.

They walked home in equal silence, the streets empty and the bars full at the time, the fireworks long finished. Bucky mentioned how the song reminded him of Steve, which just made Steve snort and call Bucky a jerk while ignoring the strange tug he felt in his stomach at the words. From then on, Bucky deemed that Steve's song, and never failed to remind Steve of that by singing it around the man from time to time. Steve tried to deny that same tug he got in his stomach when he heard Bucky humming that song, and if he eventually accepted that tug for what it was, he kept that secret to himself.

In 1940, Sarah Rogers passed away.

"A strong heart will take you further than any physical strength. A strong heart means you'll never quit..." was carved into her tombstone with the last of the savings Steve had.

The savings had been for his own medicine, but he had decided then and there that he would not give Sarah Rogers a pauper's burial and Bucky agreed, even chipping in a little with the money.

Bucky had forcibly moved into Steve's apartment within a week of the funeral, with Winifred Barnes' blessing of course, and started working in the docks lifting orange crates for a living. Steve had tried to cope as best he could. Life moved on, and death would always be the end game, but the loss of his mother still hurt him deeply. She was perfect in his eyes, and he didn't understand how God had decided she didn't deserve to go on. He tried to keep a front up in front of Bucky, but he knew the man could see right through it.

Which was why he wasn't all that surprised that Bucky would do something like this.

Bucky had rushed into the apartment like the cops were on his tail and demanded the time. Steve was halfway through saying a quarter past six when Bucky was out the window onto the fire escape. He was gone for a grand total of thirty seconds, full of metal clanking, weird creaking sounds and under-breath cussing. When he came back, he had their upstairs neighbor's radio in his arms, a cable still attached to the apartment upstairs. "What the hell are you doing?!" Steve demanded in horror, but Bucky just shushed him and turned the radio on, fiddling with the nobs till be found the station he was looking for.

They sat in silence, while the announcer talked about the latest baseball game scores, when suddenly the man on the radio said "I've had a special request from a friend to air a special song. So here it goes. Stevie, this is for you." And the shrill cry of trumpets and the crooning of a jazz singer filled the air.

"You didn't." Steve said in a deadpan voice, but Bucky was already bringing him to his feet and laughing. "C'mon, dance with me Stevie." They danced a little slower this time around, Steve huffing every now and then as though he weren't enjoying it, as if he was only doing this for Bucky, as if he didn't feel like kissing that damn smirk of his face.

"Y'know, they probably think you were talking about your dame, right?" Steve stated as he spun around. He gave a rather unmanly squeak as Bucky dipped him, all suave smugness, before pulling him back to his chest. "I _know_ they did. I told him it was for my sweetheart." Steve slapped him in the arm for that, because really…he had no right to make Steve fall even more in love with him.

Things started looking up after that.

One year later, Bucky was drafted. A month after that, so was Steve.

There were a lot of things to get used to in the future. For one, everything's value had changed. Lots of money didn't buy quite as much as it used to, and the life of a person was now quantifiable in dollars and cents. What was considered a nation-wide crisis was very different as well. Instead of world wars or the great depression, there was some girl called Justine Bieber being arrested, and a Mr. Jenner turning into a Mrs. Jenner overnight. He still wasn't comfortable with all these touch-everything technologies and to this day, he had no idea what 'the vine' was that Clint kept talking about. Granted, he had talked about it a lot less recently, gushing over the instant-gram videos instead, another thing Steve didn't want to ask about, under threat of being called a grandpa. Again.

He was at a loss in this world, which was so far ahead of him and turning at a faster and faster pace each day without him being able to catch up. Sometimes he just got that sinking feeling, that gut wrenching feeling, like when you've just missed your train and your still trying to catch it, just running beside it as it speeds up and leaves you behind, reaching out even though it's pointless and the end of the platform is coming to meet you. He hated that feeling. He used to have it many times a day, hiding behind his stiff smiles every time he missed a reference or got left behind in a conversation.

And then Bucky and Hydra happened, and everything was better and worse at the same time.

He'd started talking to Sam, about that 'missing the train' feeling, about how he didn't know what to make of this new world, or what to make of himself _in_ this new world. He talked to him about trying to find Bucky, but he hadn't talked to him about Bucky from the past, because for some reason all the feelings he had for the man seemed too private. Even with gay rights and the legalization of gay marriage in the US, even though Steve knew it was alright to love a man, he still didn't feel like sharing about Bucky.

So he talked to Sam, and he learned about modern technology and politics and ethics, and he looked for Bucky, and he talked to Sam some more, hoping he'd just get the earth back under his feet.

"So…it's been three years now." Sam said as he fixed his bowtie a little.

"It has." Bucky answered, pulling at his cuffs and looking Sam dead in the eye through the mirror they were both standing in front of. Sam chuckled at the silent intimidation and turned to look at Bucky.

"It's nothing. I'm just saying…"

"Say it faster, we're due outside for Tony's speech any minute now."

Another chuckle, because they both knew what he was going to say and Sam knew very well that Bucky was a little scared to hear it. "You need to tell that man that you love him. It's obvious it goes both ways, and it's obvious he's just waiting on you. You've gotten over most of your issues, you're both doing well, and I think it's time to take the next step."

There it was, the blunt truth, and Bucky felt like his stomach was trying to escape from the soles of his feet. "You don't know that for sure." He muttered, fidgeting with his penguin suit, but Sam just sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't think there's anything I'm surer about." "I'll think on it." Bucky replied, and they both shared a nod and exited the rest room, just as a wave of people entered chit-chatting about the amazing birthday party, and how lucky Pepper was.

They were both really lucky, just looking at the stupid extravagant ways that Tony was trying to woo her (like this over-the-top birthday party) when he already had all of her. They were a wedding short of being a married couple. Bucky's eyes wandered over the crowd looking for the Avengers, all in varying states of sobriety. Clint was currently throwing steak knives at a wall, forming his initials. Bucky suspected he was halfway drunk. Coulson was just sitting next to him, holding the platter full of knives, giving slight instructions like 'the next one should be a few millimetres to the left' or 'are we doing cursive, or block letters? Let's do block letters, there aren't that many knives left.'

Natasha was with Bruce at the bar, discussing something in depth that looked like it may or may not have to do with the fate of the world as a whole. They were getting really into it, when Thor joined in eagerly from nowhere, having heard a certain word that he seemed to understand. Steve was standing nearby, where the bar's counter-top met the wall, looking…well, Bucky was a little biased, but he was sure he had just glimpsed heaven.

Steve was wearing a tux like the rest of them, but his hair was styled in perfect 40's fashion which just brought all sorts of memories flooding back to him, about holding Steve close as he laughed and tripped through a fast paced dance for the first time in the back of a dark theatre hall, his eyes shining so bright Bucky was sure he would never need the sun again, and suddenly Bucky knew what he had to do.

He made a short detour to the DJ and Tony, before heading straight for Steve. He noted the way Steve's smile lit up his face when he caught Bucky's eye, and how it seemed to just get brighter and brighter the closer he got to the man. "Bucky! I was looking for you. Where'd you go?" "Was just talking with Sam for a bit. How's the party treating you?" he asked, leaning against the bar, looking out over the party.

"It's okay, I guess. It's a shame I can't enjoy the free bar."

"You could always dance. There's plenty of nice women here."

Steve's face fell a little, though he shot Bucky a quick (skin-deep) smile.

"You know I don't dance, Bucky. I'll just keep waiting for the right partner."

Before Steve could change the topic, the music stopped abruptly, causing everyone to stop dancing. Suddenly, a shrill trumpet sound came through the air, a slight static-quality accompanying the music proving that this wasn't 'remastered' or whatever they called it nowadays, this was an oldie…and Steve knew just what song it was. Bucky chuckled when Steve turned his wide, hope-filled eyes to Bucky.

"I get that you're waiting for 'the one' an' all, but do you mind settling for little old me for now?" he asked, taking Steve's hand in his metal one (it had taken a while, but it was now just a part of him as everything else was) and tugging him to the dance floor. Steve's shocked look didn't fade, even as Bucky wrapped his arms around him and started swaying, then suddenly they were flying again, Bucky expertly twirling Steve this way and that, the footwork coming back to Steve like riding a bicycle. And then, when the recorded voice of Lois Armstrong started singing, so did Bucky.

He started off clearly showing off his voice, singing the verse smoothly with a confidence that Steve had missed _so much._ "Now, I don't care what the weather man says, when the weatherman says it's raining. You'll never hear me complaining, I'm certain the sun will shine. I don't care how the weather vane points, when the weather vane points to gloomy, it's gotta be sunny to me, when your eyes look into mine."

But as the chorus came, Steve found Bucky's face suddenly inexplicably closer to his, as he sang out almost in a quiet questions "Jeepers creepers…where'd you get those peepers? Oh those weepers, where'd you get those eyes? Gosh all, git up…how'd they get so lit up? Gosh all git up, how'd they get that size? How they hypnotise." Steve couldn't breathe for a moment, and he wondered if this is what Bucky did, if he made him the breathless boy he used to be before the serum, and he just stopped dancing. Bucky stopped dancing too, of course, with a worried look in his eyes. That wouldn't do.

"You remember? The film, the song, the dancing?" Steve asked breathlessly.

Bucky's smile broke out broad across his face as he mumbled "Honestly Steve, it's one of the things I think I never forgot. How could I forget those eyes?" he asked sheepishly, reaching out to take Steve's hand, maybe to start dancing again (there was still half a song left) but he found his wrist being gripped by Steve instead. "Dance later." Steve all but growled and yanked Bucky towards him, and suddenly there were lips crashing on his and the whole world except for Steve disappeared, with Steve's lips on his, Steve's fingers in his hair, Steve's hand on his hip, Steve's heat pressed against his front, just Steve, Steve, Steve.

When they both finally separated for air, there was a loud applause all around them, and they looked around to see the whole crowd going crazy, a few snapping pictures with their phones. Clint was on a bar stool clapping so hard it looked like he would fall off, Coulson was grinning and watching the scene while making sure Clint _wouldn't_ fall off, Natasha raised a glass in congratulations, Thor was shouting blessings that sounded a lot randier than was expected of an alien prince, and Bruce and Sam were looking a little moved by the whole thing (Sam's eyes appeared waterier than usual, and Bruce's bottom lip was wobbling).

Steve and Bucky weren't really sure how to escape the spotlight at this point, just nodding their thanks at people's congratulations, when Tony's loud voice came over the PA system.

"Alright, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I let you guys have your moment at the expense of my speech time. It was a lovely speech too. I'm glad you're both finally together. Lord knows old-people love is sweet, but old-people pining is just annoying. That being said, let's get back to the real party here. Music!"

A song that sounded very poppy, and surprisingly juvenile, pounded from the speakers and Tony yanked the birthday girl onto the stage to dance just as the lead singer shouted "Shut up and dance with me!" Soon everyone was dancing, and Steve and Bucky had retreated to the bar. Sam clapped a hand on Bucky's back when he arrived in congratulations, complimenting him on his fast action.

Clint suddenly came bursting into the bubble from the bar stool, leaning against Coulson happily. "So _that_ was the song you kept singing!" he laughed, making Steve raise an eyebrow curiosity. Coulson just rolled his eyes at Clint's antics and mentioned tucking him in for the night, but Clint wasn't done yet.

"He'd just stare at you sometimes, Cap, like you were some work of art straight off the canvas that came to life just for him or something, like the sun was shining out of your ass or something! No Natasha, he's gotta hear this, I won't shut up! Where was I? Yeah, then he'd start singing or humming and stuff and you never seemed to notice so I'm telling you now, because that's hella sweet. He's a keeper. You hear me, Barnes? You're a keeper. I like you. A lot. But not like that, because you have Steve, and I have Coul…son…is it too late to shut up?"

Coulson snorted at the suddenly very nauseous look on Clint's pale face. "C'mon, bedtime." He muttered, leading Clint away with a kiss on the temple to placate him. It did wonders, with Clint now basically dangling off of Coulson's shoulders in relief and joy. The whole group just chuckled while Bucky pulled Steve a little closer. "Why didn't you tell me earlier that you remembered all that?" Steve asked conversationally, though the curiosity in his tone was obvious.

"I needed some time to understand it…and I was just waiting for the right moment, I guess."

For a moment, they both just got lost in each other's eyes, and they wondered if they'd finally found their happy ending.

Then Natasha said conversationally "So, we've been planning a field trip across the

AUTHOR'S NOTES

SO, if you hadn't figured it out already, the song is Jeepers Creepers by Louis Armstrong and it came out for the first time in the movie Going Places in 1938. I just like the timing of the movie, and honestly, can't you just imagine Bucky getting lost in Steve's eyes and just being like "Damn, where'd you get those eyes?" and comparing them to the sun and talking about them being hypnotizing and so on.

Either way. Got two links below, one is to the scene from the movie where the song first came out (its faster than any other recorded songs, so that's cool). And another link which is to two people swinging to Jeepers Creepers, just in case you couldn't really get the full imagery through my narrative (choppy, so choppy, I'm sorry). The fic wasn't based on the swing video, though, cuz i found that later. Like yesterday. I found it yesterday.

Link to the scene in the movie 'Going Places: watch?v=dQXyiH5ddnQ

Link to what swinging to Jeepers Creepers probably would look like: watch?v=1aRsQUENCQc

...what else can I say? Hoped you all liked it.


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